Desperate (to Connect)
by Hellemess
Summary: When ghosts flooded Mystic Falls, Greta Martin, Klaus' witch, came along with them. Not eager to return to the other side, she found Bonnie Bennett, the last of the powerful Bennett witches, and forced her to help. But Bonnie wasn't the only one who Greta wanted to see.


"You'll need a necklace." Sheila glanced at Caroline as if considering how much she might share in front of someone who wasn't a witch. Then she squeezed Bonnie's fingers and looked her in the eye. "It once belonged to the witch. Today, it enables her to catch up with the world that long ago lost sight of her, with the world of the living. The necklace is her talisman, and you," she broke off, turned to measure Caroline with a careful eye, and talked to Bonnie again, "you, honey, must find and destroy it. Shut the door to the other side."

"You mean, Elena's necklace?" Bonnie frowned. "The one that Stefan gave her?"

The necklace not being a mere bauble wasn't new, but its precise origins remained vague. Rebekah had been angry with Elena for wearing it. She'd claimed the necklace had been hers and Elena'd stolen it from her but, as Bonnie recalled, Rebekah was no witch. That meant she'd looted it from a witch's lifeless body. Who'd been that witch whom Rebekah or her psycho brother had murdered? How powerful had she been that death itself hadn't stripped her of her powers?

"Yes, that one," Sheila nodded answering Bonnie's question. "Do you know where to find it?"

Now Bonnie looked at Caroline who, in return, raised her eyebrows and blinked. When she got Bonnie's point, her face lit.

"Elena! The necklace!" she exclaimed. "I'll call her!"

Bonnie gave her a feeble smile and when the tight grip on her fingers loosened, turned to see Sheila with her hands laid on her knees. As if an anesthetic shot pierced Bonnie's heart, and it went numb, swollen, outsized in her chest. She held her breath, watching Sheila with anxiety.

"Grams?" she called, clueless what became a reason for her own sudden misgiving and yet devoured by it.

"You'll figure this out, honey," Sheila beamed at her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and Bonnie felt a lump in her throat and swallowed.

"Sure," she replied with a false zeal, forcing a smile and trying to shake weird tension off of her. "Nothing is easier. Well," she made a wry face realizing she was fibbing, "it'd be easier if Elena didn't cherish it. Anyway, I'm sure that once we explain everything to her, she'll listen and give up the necklace. Then we'll get rid of it."

And the door to the other side would close forever. And Grams—Bonnie would never see her again.

She would come back, invisible and silent, watching her granddaughter living a life, not able to help or comfort her or save her from making mistakes. The thought wasn't consolatory. It pained Bonnie to think Grams had witnessed her every hasty decision, her every failure, and the harm she caused. Without Grams' affectionate gaze, without her smile and warm words, Bonnie could only picture how disappointed she would've been if she'd seen the person her granddaughter had become. Yes, Grams was always there, but having remembered it, Bonnie would only sink into shame. She couldn't talk to her, explain herself to her, make excuses for yet another step in the wrong direction. Yes, Grams would hear her, but Bonnie craved understanding, too. She craved forgiveness. Sadly, it was up to her own imagination to give her that.

In the silent house crowded by the spirits no longer willing to surface to her, Bonnie listened to Caroline's steps and the floor creaking under her fancy shoes.

"I need you," Bonnie whispered and reached to take Sheila's hands in hers, "so much." A tear ran down her cheek.

"You're doing fine without me," Sheila smiled, her expression pensive.

"No, I'm not," Bonnie shook her head. "I let Klaus slip away. I let Elijah save him, and I must've killed them both. Then I sent Stefan straight to Klaus—" She stammered over the name and closed her eyes and lowered her head, not able to meet Grams' gaze. In matters of Klaus, her shame was the deepest, her defeat tasted the bitterest. "I'm the reason he—"

"Honey, you're not responsible for crimes committed by vampires ten times, a hundred times older than you," Sheila interrupted her. "Look at me."

Bonnie opened her eyes and sighed. She sniffled before summoning up the courage to raise her head. Sheila's face wore no signs of accusation or disappointment.

"Don't scold yourself for mistakes you've made. Everyone makes them." Sheila caressed Bonnie's wrists with her thumbs. "Focus on what you can do to fix them. You and Caroline need—"

"And Caroline?" Bonnie echoed. Cut off mid-sentence, Sheila became quiet, her eyes full of sadness. She seemed to wait for Bonnie to go on, but in the heavy silence fallen over the room, it demanded a lot of effort. Staring at Grams, Bonnie refused to think—let alone talk—about what was getting clearer by the second. "You said you're here because of me," she reminded Grams, her voice too loud for her own ears. "Because I upset the balance of nature by bringing Jeremy back. You said you needed to explain how—"

"Yes, these are the reasons I'm here, with you," Sheila nodded. "There's another reason for me to cross to the world of the living, though. Another unfinished business of sorts. And since I, like other ghosts, got a free pass to clean up some mess I'd left behind, well…" She let her voice drop before speaking up. "I would like to do just that."

"No," Bonnie gasped with a hint of desperation. Did Grams want to leave? Right now? To abandon Bonnie as if not caring what would happen to her? "No, please! You must help me—"

Sheila freed one of her hands from Bonnie's grasp and cupped the side of her face, wiping the tear that escaped her eye.

"I need you," Bonnie repeated and winced from how pathetic she sounded.

"You'll figure this out, honey," Sheila breathed, her voice hushed, yet blacking out any other sound in the room.

"I don't want to," Bonnie close her eyes tight, "I don't want to figure anything out, I want you to—" She swallowed and then opened her mouth to beg Grams to stay with her when suddenly, there was no more touch of the warm hand on her cheek. Bonnie's fingers clinging to Grams' wrist grabbed at nothingness. Sheila Bennett wasn't there. Bonnie exhaled with a sob and put her hand over her mouth to silence a cry.

_This isn't fair!_

What matter could be more pressing for a grandmother than to help her own granddaughter? Who could steal a show from ghosts of vampires, werewolves, witches that had died at Mystic Falls, flooding the town in no time? Bonnie strived to understand why Grams had left her but couldn't come up with the reason that didn't make her feel insignificant, petty, and lonely. She couldn't come up with any reason at all! How could Grams leave her in an hour of need? For what? For—whom?

Bonnie assumed she could've guessed where Grams had headed if she'd known her better. She had no idea who Grams' friends were or whether someone courted her. Bonnie's resentment died down; guilt took its place. She had only developed a close relationship with Grams not long before her death, and even then, all they'd talked about was Bonnie: her potential, her training, struggles she'd faced, dangers waiting for her along the path. Sheila had barely spoken of herself, and when she had, it would've always been of her experience as a witch and not her life outside of that role and the grandmother's one. And what could that life be? Who was Sheila Bennett if not Grams or a witch?

To the people at Mystic Falls, she was a madwoman. She was an Occult Studies professor at Whitmore College. She was a mother-in-law. And a mother. A woman. A person. She was the one Bonnie didn't know as well as she thought she did. The one she should've asked so many questions.

For a long time, Bonnie believed Grams had been just an eccentric woman. Years of teaching Occult Studies had led her to lose the ability to distinguish fairytales from facts and turn into someone steep in superstition. And while Bonnie loved Grams, it'd been hard to take her seriously. In theory, her attitude should've changed once she'd known the truth about magic. But her reverence to Grams, fresh and novel, had mingled with condescension Bonnie'd always shown around her; her interest in Grams' secret life had gone hand in hand with the doubt she'd had one in the first place. It'd been Grams, for God's sake! She'd been around since Bonnie could remember; what else had been there to know about her?

In a few short months before Sheila's death, Bonnie had had time to learn so much about her, yet she'd wasted it, fretting over Elena, Stefan, everyone at Mystic Falls except the one who'd always been there for her.

With trembling hands, Bonnie wiped away the tears and started packing away the things she'd laid out on the dirty floor to perform the spell. Many years she had underrated and talked down to Grams, waving aside everything she had been saying, yet she'd never apologized for it, neither today nor any other day that had passed since she'd touched Elena's hand and had her first vision. Bonnie didn't know what unfinished business Grams could have because she'd failed to give her enough attention in her lifetime. Whatever of her feelings Grams had hurt having run off, Bonnie reckoned she didn't deserve an explanation because she'd never bothered asking for it.

_What on Earth could be more important?_

Sure, Grams might not have waited for questions and just told her that but when she hadn't, why hadn't Bonnie asked? For sure, she would've gotten the answer. Grams had never lied to her.

She'd just omitted to tell the whole truth.

Bonnie pursed her lips while the questions gnawing away at her rose from the bottom like silt from a stirred up stream bed. Why hadn't Grams put across long ago what being a witch had meant? She'd maintained that Bonnie'd been a witch, and so had she, and so had every Bennett woman who'd ever lived; why hadn't she dug into it? Why hadn't she proven herself? She could do magic! No matter how insane Bonnie would've thought it'd been, she couldn't have argued with Grams lightening up candles with her mind and making feathers swirl around the room like snowflakes. Why hadn't she—

_Enough is enough!_ Bonnie reined in her thoughts since she didn't want to neither hold anything against Grams nor hate herself for doing just that despite her best wishes. If she focused on confronting the consequences of her own actions, she wouldn't have time for the pointless brooding that hadn't ever brought her any relief.

Having packed her things into her bag, Bonnie got up from her knees and stooped down to brush the dust off her pants. She heard Caroline talking to Elena over the phone but couldn't make out any words. They must've been arguing about the troublesome necklace. Bonnie hadn't counted on Elena to give it up without a fight. It was a symbol of her and Stefan's love for each other. However, she should've understood that the dead must've come back to where they'd belonged so Bonnie supposed that convincing her to hand the necklace over to them wouldn't be tricky. Would Elena's reluctance be the only obstacle to getting things back on the rails? Bonnie wished! But that would've been too easy, suspiciously so.

Bonnie straightened up and saw Caroline who stood in the doorway. Having said goodbye to Elena, she was looking around in bewilderment. With a sting in her eyes, Bonnie gathered that she was wondering where Sheila had gone. Bonnie blinked a few times to hold back her tears and took a deep breath. Caroline asked no questions for which she was grateful because she wasn't sure how to answer them without bursting into tears. Was it possible that Caroline stayed silent so she wouldn't have to deal with Bonnie's emotions? Was the damn necklace her only concern? Suddenly, Bonnie's relief turned into anger. What if she needed to get things off her chest, even cry a little? Did anyone care?

God, she was a mess!

Meeting Grams unsettled her more than she would've imagined. Had she gone too tough on Jeremy for what their relationship had become while his dead girlfriends had been following him everywhere? Apparently, an encounter with a ghost could knock one off balance.

Bonnie shook her head, hoping it would help her get a grip, squared her shoulders, and looked Caroline in the face. A faint smile met her. Caroline seemed at a loss whether she should ask Bonnie about her grandmother's ghost or keep her mouth shut and not add insult to injury. The corners of Bonnie's lips pulled up in response when an abrupt movement behind Caroline's back caught her eye.

_A woman!_  
Bonnie's smile faded away. She furrowed her brow, hesitant to trust her own eyes. She tilted her head to the side and peered around Caroline who went still, alarmed.

"Bonnie, what is—" She didn't finish and cried out and doubled over, her head in her hands. Bonnie gasped and took a step back: the woman stood right behind Caroline. Her eyes met Bonnie's. She winked at her and looked down on Caroline's hunched posture. Her face—a familiar one—expressed smug pity; her lips curved in a grin. Bonnie inhaled and tried to push the woman—the witch—away with her magic but did not even get a second glance from her.

Caroline didn't wail anymore. She kneeled down and whimpered, her sobs quiet and full of pain, as her body winced time and again.

"Stop!" Bonnie shouted at the witch when she failed to overpower her. "Why are you doing this? What do you want?"

As soon as the question left Bonnie's lips, the witch appeared to have forgotten all about Caroline who yelped and tumbled on the floor, her breathing labored. The witch lifted her eyes and stared at Bonnie.

"You," she answered. "I want you."

Bonnie could swear she wasn't one of the hundred witches burned here a couple of centuries ago. She was wearing a leather jacket, a thin tank top, and skinny jeans. The necklace hanging around her neck resembled those sold at a cash desk in any clothing store. Bonnie had plenty of such jewelry herself. Big earrings dangling from her ears didn't look vintage either. If she were a ghost, she couldn't be the one who died so long ago.

Once the witch stepped closer, her hips swaying as if she were dancing, it hit Bonnie.

"You're Gr—" She started when fathomless power made her shut her mouth, her teeth clicking. Bonnie went bug-eyed with shock and stared at the witch—Greta Martin, the witch who had broken Klaus' curse.

Klaus' witch.

"One thing at a time," she shook her head and nodded at Caroline who was sitting on the floor. Did she worry that her own legs wouldn't hold her if she stood? How much pain had Greta caused her? "At first we should get rid of her."

Caroline's head jerked up, and she stared at Greta. Her eyes went wide with disbelief and anger and fear—and recognition. She must've remembered Greta, too. She looked at Bonnie, her moon-white face glowing with desperation.

"Get rid of?" Bonnie bleated, her eyes glued to Caroline. Her heart sank.

"Get out!" Greta barked, and Bonnie jumped and glared at her. "Come on!" Greta's voice raised, and she pushed Caroline whose body rocked forward, giving in, and then backward as she refused to move from her place on the floor. "Have you gone deaf? Have I injured your eardrums?" she asked, amused, but dismissed the possibility right off, "What am I even talking about? You're a vampire! So, what is it?"

Caroline turned to look at her with loathing, her eyes narrowed.

"I won't leave Bonnie alone with you," she blustered. Greta laughed. Bonnie gritted her teeth.

"Caroline, go," she differed while her apprehensive eyes never left Greta's smiling face.

"Bonnie, I won't—" Caroline resisted, but Bonnie interrupted her.

"Go!" She looked Caroline in the eye, yearning for her to not argue and do as she's told. Caroline blinked, then frowned, then nodded in resolution. Bonnie extended her hand to help her to her feet, and Caroline rose and stood tottering. Greta stared at them, her face read that she found the scene before her pathetic yet, in a way, touching. Caroline sighed—and disappeared in a heartbeat.  
She would tell Elena and others what had happened. She would call for backup to rescue Bonnie whatever it took and even bring Damon along. Bonnie had a hunch he'd scare Greta away since he'd been the one who had broken her neck and killed her.

For a while, she and Greta both gazed after Caroline. Bonnie was waiting, listening for a blood-curdling scream or a roar of flame or a hefty pound of Caroline's hard body colliding with an invisible wall of Greta's magic. Yet everything was still, and only trees behind the windows were sharing their secrets with each other in quiet whispers of their leaves. Birds were chirping. Greta had let Caroline go without putting any spell on her, and she could've made her catch fire when the sunlight had touched her skin, daylight ring or not. The spirits that inhabited this house had played a similar trick on Damon. Greta hadn't, and she hadn't deceived Caroline into faux safety only to go after her and kill her. One would tell Greta had spared Caroline by letting her escape. Bonnie shifted her eyes to look at her.

"Wondering why on Earth haven't I killed her?" Greta asked without turning her head. Bonnie gulped and shifted her feet, taking a subtle step back. That was exactly what she was thinking. She didn't worry about what she herself was in for, nor did she feel relief for Greta hadn't killed Caroline but was wondering why she hadn't. She was dwelling on all the ways it could've happened. Then again, this train of thought was easy to follow, wasn't it? Greta had figured out what had been on Bonnie's mind, but that didn't mean she could read her—"Don't worry, I can't hear your thoughts," Greta chuckled and turned to look at Bonnie who pursed her lips. "You're thinking loudly, though." She wrinkled her nose, her eyes shining with mischief.

Bonnie glowered at her and took a tight grip on the strap of her bag slung over her shoulder.

"Last time, you were going to sacrifice Caroline and Tyler to break the curse that kept Klaus' werewolf side dormant!" she snapped.

"Yesterday's history." Greta waved her hand nonchalantly. Bonnie narrowed her eyes. Greta titled her head to the side, studying her face. "You're too unpredictable." She said it like she knew Bonnie better than the back of her own hand while they have never met face to face albeit had been aware of each other's existence. "You're a dark horse of sorts. Who knows what to expect of you if I start killing your friends right in front of you? You only look defenseless."

Bonnie rested her free hand on the fist she was gripping her bag strap in. Under Greta's piercing eyes, she felt small and as defenseless as she looked. She tried to calm down. She focused on the stale air pouring into her nostrils, filling her lungs. Her rib cage expanded, then descended; the light breath brushed her philtrum every time she exhaled. She had become aware of her body: her upper and lower lips touching, her tongue behind her teeth, the warmth where one of her palms grasped the other, the pressure of her feet on the old floorboards. She braced herself to run—

"We should go," Greta announced out of the blue, breaking her concentration. Bonnie let out an exasperated breath. "And I'm gonna need your phone."

"Go?" Bonnie questioned.

"Sure thing," Greta scoffed. "Do you think I don't understand that your blonde friend will come back for you, the town circus hot on her heels? I want no one to disturb us."

"And where are we going?" Bonnie couldn't imagine a place where the Mystic Falls vampires wouldn't find her, and she knew the town inside and out. However, Greta didn't deign to answer.

"Let's go!" She grabbed Bonnie's elbow and dragged her along. "And give me your phone!"

Bonnie hissed and tried to wriggle out of her hold, but it was too firm, and Greta looked at her, warning her, without a word, against using magic. Sure, Bonnie could've defied her silent order, but what were her chances of defeating Greta? When she had tortured Caroline, Bonnie couldn't have done anything. She wasn't as strong as she needed to be to challenge another witch; her encounter with Grams had left her weary and hurt.

"You phone," Greta raised her voice.

Bonnie glared at her, her nostrils flaring with anger, and took out her phone. She held it out to Greta who gave her a simpering smile in return.

"Thank you," she drawled. Bonnie felt sick and looked the other way. When Greta tugged at her arm and headed out of the house, dialing some number on the go, she followed her without question.

As they were walking, Greta was quiet, listening to someone on the other end of the line with undivided attention. A couple of times she took the phone away from her ear to push a number on the keypad. Bonnie guessed that she accessed her voicemail and was checking the messages left to her after her death. Whoever had been calling her, they caused her a slight change in the mood. Having gotten off the phone, she sighed, blinked, and pursed her lips as if trying to regain composure. She caught Bonnie watching her, and her face darkened. Bonnie hurried to avert her gaze. Greta dialed another number and cleared her throat.

"Where's your car?" she whispered to Bonnie who raised her eyebrows, taken aback by Greta's audacity. She opened her mouth to give Greta a piece of her mind, but the person she was calling picked up the phone, and she turned aside, waving Bonnie away. "Hi," she purred. "It's me."

Bonnie held her breath. She didn't hear what the other party's response to it was or if there was any, but she still pricked up her ears, hoping to make out scraps of conversation that would help her see which way the wind was blowing.

"It's me," Greta repeated. "Don't you recognize me?" She stayed silent for a bit, then gasped out, "Yeah," and giggled like a schoolgirl. "All hell broke loose here in Mystic Falls! I don't even know where to start—Where are you?" She whistled at the answer. "Holy shit!" She laughed at something told to her. "Yeah, yeah, sure! I can only imagine. Will you—" she broke off, obviously interrupted, but didn't seem upset about it. She beamed and bit her lip. "Good. I'll be waiting," she whispered, her smile fond and tender. Bonnie would swear she saw tears welling in her eyes.

Greta sniffled, took a deep breath, and put a devious look back on her face.

"Where's your car, again?" she asked, her voice loud with studied arrogance. Bonnie nodded towards the place she'd left her car, and they followed along the trail covered with dry twigs and pine needles muttering under their feet. Greta was holding her by the elbow, but Bonnie wasn't making any efforts to pull away from her grip.

She was thinking.

Whom Greta had called wasn't a mystery. Bonnie kept telling herself that she couldn't be sure, but she was—deep inside, where her blood was running faster as if running for life. Whom Klaus' witch would've reached first thing after breaking free from the other side? If only because her whole family was dead. Damon had killed her brother, without intention, without even being aware of doing it; her father had got his heart set on avenging his son and fallen victim to Katherine's fangs.

_What about her mother?_

Bonnie sensed a nasty, heavy emptiness in her chest. The question, simple and inherent, stirred something in her, and she didn't know what it was. Or did she? Bonnie gulped when the smiling face in the old photo sprang to mind. It's been fifteen years, and this face hadn't got a day older. Women captured on the photographs doesn't change as time goes by, just like vampires.

Bonnie stole a glance at Greta who, without a doubt, had a mother. There was no other way. Everyone—every human, every witch, every werewolf, and every vampire—has a mother as in a woman who carried them under her heart. Greta had one, too, even if Bonnie knew nothing about that her.

_Is she alive? Is she a witch? Does she know what has happened to her daughter? Does she love her?_

Or had she left Greta a long time ago, when she'd been a child, with nothing but a poor old photo? Bonnie scowled, angry at herself. She shouldn't have felt sorry for Greta who had helped Klaus kill Jenna, snatched Caroline and Tyler from the parking lot in broad daylight and had been ready to sacrifice them if need be. Now, she was forcing Bonnie to follow her somewhere her friends wouldn't find her, expecting her to do what exactly? Apparently, Dr. Martin had deluded himself into thinking his daughter had been Klaus' victim, which was why he wanted Bonnie to save her. Greta didn't need saving, at least not from Klaus.

Klaus who they had just driven out of the town. He'd never let them forget about him: Rebekah kept an eye on Tyler and even attended Mystic Falls High School to not miss a thing he did which was driving Caroline crazy; Stefan had become Elena's shadow. Klaus himself had disappeared, though, fled, his tail between his legs, once Damon had mentioned his father. What a blessing!

Now, Greta had summoned him back.

Bonnie glanced at her once more.

Klaus avoided his father like the plague, yet when Greta asked—No, that wasn't what she'd done. It dawned on Bonnie that no 'come back' had left Greta's lips during her short conversation with Klaus, however, right now, he was coming back.

_Maybe, he wasn't the one she's called,_ Bonnie couldn't help but hope.

They reached her car at last, and Greta looked at her with expectation in her eyes. Bonnie grimaced and took the car keys out of her bag. When she pushed the button on the key fob, her car greeted her with a short sound and a flash of the lights. Greta grabbed her keys and pushed her towards the passenger door. Bonnie slipped up and would bump into the car if she didn't put her hands out to break her fall. Under her fingers, the car roof was cool and smooth. Bonnie considered making a run for it. Should she have headed back into the woods to hide there—or down the road to throw herself in front of a passing car and call for help?

Bonnie sighed and got in the car. Klaus was coming back to reunite with his witch. Whatever it would bring about, Bonnie would've rathered not waste a chance to be where they'd meet each other. She should've found out as much as possible about what they were plotting.

Greta got behind the wheel, closed the door, and put the key in the ignition, letting out a soft chuckle.

"Oh, that's been a while." She grinned from ear to ear. The car—what a traitor!—hummed without regard for who was driving it and where. Bonnie envied such a lack of concern.

"Where are we going?" she asked again. If she'd known their destination, she would've sent a message to her friends. Even if Greta remembered to take away her phone, she could perform a spell like the one that had once helped her to let Elena know that the Salvatore brothers had been on their way to her rescue.

Greta laughed, shook her head, and pulled away.

"You're a curious one," she murmured and turned on the radio. When music filled the car, Greta looked at the display, amusement and approval clear on her face. "I love that song!" she cheered and gestured for Bonnie to buckle her seatbelt. Bonnie complied, and the car drove towards the highway.


End file.
